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SON JOHN 



A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 



lUiutlwiHimn l ■iiimiimuiiii 



By W. A. STIGLER 




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NOTICE: This Play is protected by United States 

Copyright.with all Rights Reserved to THE 

NATIONAL DRAMA CO.. Memphis, 

Tennessee, from whom a license 

must be secured for each 

and every production 



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SON JOHN 



A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 



By W. A. STIGLER 




Copyrighted, 1920, by 
THE NATIONAL DRAMA COMPANY 



"it" i < "I"" imtiiiiiiiiKiiiiiiiiiiiiiM iiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiu 

NOTICE: This Play is protected by United States 

Copyright.with all Rights Reserved to THE 

NATIONAL DRAMA CO., Memphis, 

Tennessee, from whom a license 

must be secured for each 

and every production 



■ r . < 
FOREWORD 

THE author of this play has been a Public School man 
for a number of years. He was led to take up the 
writing of plays by reason of the fact that he found it 
almost impossible to secure a play suited to production by 
the average high school class. Plays of the Shakespearean 
type are not practicable, and yet, something more elevated 
than the ordinary play for amateurs is desired. It is hoped 
that this play falls within the happy medium, and will, 
therefore, meet the demand. 



COSTUMES 



HIRAM — Dark suit, swallow-tailed coat. Chin beard. 
Same costume in all acts. 

LOVEY — Old fashioned, but expensive clothes. 

DICK — Light suit, brown derby, red tie, nose glasses; 
face powdered very white. Cane or umbrella. 

JOHN — Second act, evening suit; third and last acts, 
business clothes. 

JAKE — Goatee; slouch hat; old shirt and trousers with 
one suspender. 

SOFIRA — Old faded blue calico; spectacles; sun bonnet. 

TINY — New gingham apron; hair braided; bonnet swing- 
ing from neck. 

WORDNA — Second act, evening dress; other two, street 
clothes. 

GERALDINE — Second act, evening dress; other two, 
street clothes. 

MRS. VAN ALSTYNE— Similar to Geraldine. 

ROBERT — Second act, evening suit; third and last, street 
dress. 

MERUSKI — Evening dress. 

BONNIE Similar to Geraldine and Wordna. 

LENA — Ordinary dress of stenographer. 

WAITRESS — White apron and cap. 






g)CI.D 54120 



SON JOHN 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 
By W. A. STIGLER 



TIME OF PLAYING: ABOUT TWO HOURS 

CAST 

Hiram Rogers A Southern Farmer Who Struck Oil. 

Lovey Rogers His Wife. 

John Rogers Their Son, an Expert Violinist. 

Richard Rogers Their Younger Son, Still Green. 

Jake Lindsey Their Neighbor. 

Sofira Lindsey Jake's Wife and Boss. 

Tiny Lindsey Their Daughter, Sweet on Dick. 

Wordna Howard A Friend of the Rogers Family. 

Robert Divinney John's New York Friend. 

Bonnie Burton Robert's Fiancee. 

Geraldine Van Alstyne John's Promised Wife. 

Mrs. Van Alstyne Her Mother, After the Oil Money. 

Lena Moore John's Secretary. 

Mademoiselle Meruski John's Violin Instructor. 

Waitress in Cafe. 
Newsboy. 

This play may well be given with four male and five 
female characters (by doubling). 

ACT I 

(Scene Yard of Rogers' farm home. A fence may go 

across the stage. New chairs to right. House shows at 
right and back, or it need not be shown at all. Lawn swing, 
or settee, at extreme left in nook. If possible, cedars or 
other small trees should be between settee and chairs at 
right. Open suitcases in yard.) 

HIRAM (Comes on stage from house, shading his eyes 

with his hand and looking off left.) Well I'll be Johnny- 
jumped-up, Lovey, if yonder don't come old Jake Lindsey 

that poor sucker is still a-ploddin* along a-foot. 



LOVEY — (Coming sadly after him.) Now Hiram, I'd 
be ashamed. You know it aint been more'n a year since 
you was a-doin' precisely the same thing. 'Taint every- 
body that strikes oil under his land. 

HIRAM No, and taint everybody as is fast enough to 

ketch a cold, neither. I tell you, old woman, that Jake 
Lindsey is a back number. Why he ain't never even 
THOUGHT he might have oil under his land. 

LOVEY — Well, you never thought on it 'till that there 
city feller come and told you about it. 

HIRAM — Humph! That was more'n a year ago. NOW, 
I tell you, it's the STYLE to have oil under yer land. The 
feller that don't think he's got oil or somethin' or other 
now-a-days is a back number. Why, if Jake Lindsey was 
a-livin' in snail town, he'd never git arrested fer speedin*. 

LOVEY — Well, I'm mighty glad the Lindsey's is a-comin' 
over. Sofira's a good — they're all good people, Hiram, I 
don't care what you say. 

HIRAM Yes, Jake's a good feller that is, he's harm- 
less — never did harm nobody. (Calling into house.) Hey, 
Dick, better go git into your Sunday clothes — here comes 
Tiny Lindsey over to see you. (This last remark is made 
as Jake, Sofira and Tiny enter from left, and is intended 
for their ears.) 

RICHARD — (Within house.) Shuckin's, dad, I ain't 

got no time for the likes o' her nothing but a city girl 

for me. 

SOFIRA — (Shaking her finger in at door of the house.) 
Now, ain't that a purty come off? Jist as yer dad strikes 
it rich you gits so biggoty you cain't notice yer old friends! 

HIRAM That's all right, Sofira; don't you worry. He 

jist said that to keep down suspicion. You jist hold your 
hosses and see how he dolls up. 

SOFIRA — (To Lovey). Where are you folks a-goin'? 
I see you're a-packin' up. 

LOVEY Aw, Hiram would have us go up to New York 

and show off before Son John. He wants ter surprise him 
and we ain't a-lettin' him know nothin' about it. 

HIRAM — Come, Jake, 'es have a game of checkers. 
(They get the board and play at right of stage.) 

SOFIRA — A'int a-lettin' him know nothin' about it — 
how you goin' to keep from gittin' lost? 

LOVEY Why, we wrote to Wordna Howard and told 

her to meet us at the train. 

SOFIRA Humph, I'd think that John might come and 

see his old daddy and .mammy, bein' as he ain't seen 'em 
in five years. But I guess he's so hi-falutin' he ain't very 
anxious. 

LOVEY Well, 'taint been so's the pore boy could come 

much afore this. You know for four and a half years it's 
took all I could save from my butter and eggs and chickens 
to keep him there, let alone payin' fer him to come home 
to us. 

6 



SOFIRA But it's more'n six months since you sent him 

all o' that oil money it's a pity he couldn't come on that I 

LOVEY Well, he says he simply cain't git away now 

as he is a-workin' so hard on his music. He says he's soon 
a-goin* ter play at some big to-do there in New York and 
maybe win great fame as a violinist. 

SOFIRA 'Pears to me it's a mighty funny thing to spend 

everything on a boy jist cause he is a little sickly and don't 
want ter do nothin' but play a fiddle. I think he's jist a play- 
in' off sick part of the time I'd a made him go to hoein' 

cotton or corn or somethin' or other! 

(Exit Lovey and Sofira into house.) 

HIRAM 1 ain't a sayin' nothin', Jake, but it 'pears to 

me you'd better take a few lessons 'fore you set yourself 
up as a checker player. 

JAKE Gimme a chaw er terbacker, I'm so dry I'm about 

ter blow away. (Gets up, stretches and yawns, turns 
around, spits under a rock, then sits down again and re- 
sumes game.) Guess my luck will change now. (Pause.) 

Uhuh, crown my king there. Humph, jump that man 

now jump this un now I'll jist take four o' yourn. Guess 

that 'bout swipes yer rind, don't it? 

HIRAM (Yawning loudly.) Yep, checkers is too slow 

fer me now-a-days. I got to be a-thinkin' about other 
things. Come out here and look at my new automobile. 
I did think I'd have 'em run a street car line out here, but 
I jist bought me a automobile instead. 

(Enter Richard right.) 

HIRAM (As he and Jake exit left.) Look at that poor 

fish! Ain't got no time fer the likes o' her, eh! 

DICK (Goes over and sits with Tiny, who continues to 

look down.) Hello, kiddo, have some gum. 

TINY You'd better save yer wax fer some o' them city 

girls. 

DICK Aw, kiddo, you know I was jist a-sayin' that to 

keep the old man from a-guyin' us. 

TINY Yeah, but soon's you git to the city, you'll fergit 

there ever wuz sich a girl as me. 

Dick Shuckin's, Tiny, you know I like you better'n any 

girl they is the ain't no city girl a-goin' ter cut you out 

with me. Have some gum. (Tiny brightens up and takes 
it.) Say, kiddo, shut your eyes and I'll give you some- 
thin' purty. (She obeys and he gives her a bottle of per- 
fume.) 

TINY Oh, my, ain't that fine. Gee! (Smelling it.) 

DICK (Tilting the bottle so that some spills on her.) 

How does she smell, kiddo? 

TINY Oh. my, don't waste it. 

DICK Shuckin's, I'll git you a lot more when that's 

gone. 

(Re-enter Hiram and Jake left.) 

HIRAM And it cost me fifty dollars extra ter git that 

7 



'ere car equipped with a spittoon. She's a humdinger, 
now, Jake. You ought ter have one. Beats the old hoss 
and wagon out er all hollers. 

JAKE — (Not interested.) 'Es have another game. (They 
sit and play.) 

SOFIRA — (Enters from house and, catching Jake by the 
arm, shakes him and points over to Dick and Tiny.) Lordy 
mercy, Jake, you good-fer-nothin*, triflin* thing — settin* 
here a playin' checks and them younguns over there a 
sparkin' ter beat the band. (Going to Tiny.) Now git up 

from there, Tiny, and go and hunt my specs 1 must a lost 

them a-comin' over here. (Tiny exits left while Dick sits 
with mouth open.) 

HIRAM — I ain't a-sayin' nothin', Sofira, but younguns 
will be younguns and I reckon we wuz all young once. 
'Taint no killin' crime fer era to ter spark, while we're so 
close, anyway. 

SOFIRA — 'Pears to me, Hiram Rogers, you might be a- 
helpin* your wife pack up instead o' killin' time out here 
a-playin' checks and a up-holding them younguns in their 
mischief. 

JAKE — But Sofira 

SOFIRA Shet up. Come into the house with me I'll 

see that you make yerself useful as well as ornamental. 
(Catches him by the ear and leads him toward the house.) 

HIRAM— Well, I ain't a-sayin' nothin 

JAKE — Yer ain't got nothin' on me. (Exit Jake and 
Sofira into house.) 

HIRAM — (Laughs.) Well I'll be swan-taked! 

DICK — Say, dad, is that city girl we saw up at the court 
house 'bout like all of *em you saw in Memphis while you 
wuz there durin' the war? 

HIRAM How wuz that, son? 

(Re-enter Tiny left. She starts toward the house. Dick 
signals to her and she comes and sits with him.) 

DICK Why didn't you come and set with me, kiddo ? 

TINY — Cause, why didn't you go with me ter hunt them 
specs? 

DICK — (Absentmindedly.) I never thought nothin' 

about it 1 was a-thinkin' about somethin' else Aw, I 

mean, cause I didn't want ter make yer old ma any mad- 
der'n she already wuz. 

(Re-enter Jake right as though sneaking from rear of 
house.) 

HIRAM— Wh— ! I'll be John-Browned! 

JAKE How long you goin' ter be in New York? (They 

play.) 

HIRAM Ain't fully decided yet. Ye see we planned 

ter surprise John and step in on him jist as he gits up to 
play. By heck! Won't he be surprised ter see how his 
old daddy and mammy have spruced up and put on airs! 



JAKE — Take yer jump. Put a crown on my king there. 
(They play.) 

TINY — Say, Dick, did you see that there fortune teller 
that come through Black Stump Valley 'tother day? 

DICK (Looking off.) Naw, did you) 

TINY — Yeah, I had her ter tell my fortune. Guess who 
she said I was a-goin' ter marry? 

DICK — (Still looking off dreamily.) Dunno, tell me 
about it, kiddo. 

TINY You ain't a-payin' no 'tenshun to me. You're 

a-thinkin' 'bout what you'll see in the city. 

DICK — Nah, I'm not. Tell me. 

TINY She said I was a-goin' on a long trip, and she 

said I was a-goin* ter marry a man that had made a whole 
lot o' money, and I was a goin' ter have fine clothes, an* 
everything, and live in a city. 

DICK Did she say what that guy looked like you wus 

a-goin' ter marry? 

TINY — Uhuh, she described him, and he's jist like some- 
body I know, too. 

DICK — Who was it, kiddo 

TINY Hunkuh, I ain't er goin* ter tell. 

DICK — Do! Do I know him? 

TINY 1 should say so. You ought to. His name be- 
gins with a D, er, I mean his nickname does. 

DICK I'll bet you it's old Drew Fagala, is it? 

TINY — Nah, you know I wouldn't have nothin' ter do 
with him. Say, Dick, do you believe in fortune tellin'? 

DICK Not so awful much. This feller, after making a 

whole lot o' money might er wanted ter marry a city girl, 
or some society swell. 

LOVEY — (Entering from house.) Richard, honey, do 
you want me ter put in that tie you got for Christmas 
last year? 

DICK Shuckin's nah, maw, put in them new ones like 

the one I got on that I got yesterday. The clerk at the 
store says they are all the rage in the city now. 

LOVEY All right, honey boy. (As she goes over 

towards Hiram she heaves a deep sigh.) 

HIRAM We might decide ter sell out everything here 

and move ter New York fer good, that is if she suits us. 

LOVEY Oh, Hiram, don't talk about that. You know I 

couldn't bear to give up the old farm. I'm just afraid 
we're givin' too much attention to frills and fineries. Sofira 
says we'll 'bout be punished fer it some day. I wish we wuz 
still pore and handn't struck that there oil. 

HIRAM Now, old woman, don't go ter gittin' peavish. 

We ain-t a-doin' no harm jist ter enjoy ourselves. 

JAKE (Impatient.) It's your move. That there ain't 

a king. I jumped your king a good while ago. 

SOFIRA (Within the house.) Now, Jake, these grip- 
sacks is ready. You go out and make Hiram Rogers help 

9 



you put them in the automobile. Why, where has he gone 
to? (Appears at door right.) Well, here you are a-settin' 
at that there checker board again. I never saw such triflin* 
folks. Always a-thinkin' about pleasure and sin and wick- 
edness. Judgment shorely will come on you, Lovey, if 
Hiram don't stop thinking so much about worldly pleasures. 
It wouldn't surprise me any day to hear Gabriel blow his 
horn; the Judgment day caint be fur off. (Sighing deeply.) 

(Lovey weeps silently and wipes her eyes on her apron.) 

HIRAM 1 ain't a-sayin' nothin' but 

JAKE — You ain't got nothin' on me. 

SOFIRA — Git up from there, both of you good-fer- 
nothin', triflin' things and go and put them gripsacks we 
jist packed in the automobile. 

HIRAM — Well, jist hold yer hosses, Sofira. We'll go 
as quick as we git through with this game. 

SOFIRA — Lordy-mercy, did you ever hear the like o' 
that? Pleasure before business. (Pause — sees Dick and 
Tiny.) Goodness gracious sakes alive, there's them young- 
uns a-sparkin' agin! I thought I told you, Tiny, ter go 
and hunt my specs. 

TINY — I did start to look fer 'em, ma, and I happened 
to think you've got 'em right there on yer head. (laughs.) 

SOFIRA Lordy-mercy, if I ain't, fer a fact! Dick, I 

think yer ma wants ter speak ter you a minute. (Dick 
joins Lovey and they enter house together.) You heard 
what that triflin' thing said about you jist as we was a-comin' 
up. Don't have nothin* ter do with him. He's jist like his 
old daddy — stuck up as he can be since he made all o 
that money. 

TINY — But ma, look what he gimme. Don't it make me 
smell good? 

SOFIRA — 'Taint the way you smell that counts, is it? 
(Starts toward Hiram and Jake.) 

JAKE (Getting up and yawning.) Well that beats 

yer the best two out o* three. Gimme another chaw o' 
that Thick Plug Tinsley. (Starts to take a chew when 
Sofira interrupts.) 

SOFIRA — Now, I'll see that you carry them gripsacks. 

JAKE — But Sofira 

SOFIRA Shet up I've had enough back talk out o* 

you. (Pushing him toward the house.) Git on in there 
and git ter work. 

HIRAM — I ain't a-sayin' nothin' 

JAKE — You ain't got nothin' on me. (Exit both J. and 
H. into house.) 

(Lovey re-enters from house. Sofira sits with her at 
right back.) 

SOFIRA — About all Dick thinks about is sparkin* the 
girls. I wonder if John's as bad. Is him and Wordna How- 
ard still a-goin' tergether? 

10 



LOVEY No, he wrote us a good while ago that he had 

found a girl up there that he was a-goin' ter marry if he 
could git her. 

SOFIRA Well, Wordna is up there, ain't she? Ain't 

she been up there more'n two years a-studyin' her head 
off maybe it's her. 

LOVEY No 'taint. John said that this girl's name was 

Van Alstyne, and that she was away up in society. 

SOFIRA Ain't that a purty come-off, turn down a good 

country girl that's been a-lovin' him all his life, fer some 
society swell that don't even know how ter sweep the floor! 

LOVEY But Wordna writes me all the time and she 

never says nothin' about it; so I suppose she don't care. 

SOFIRA Well, does he think he's a goin' ter git this 

society swell ? 

LOVEY Yes, their engagement ain't been made public 

yet, but they've been engaged a long time. 

SOFIRA 1 guess they've been engaged ever since you 

sent John that money. (Rising.) Oh, my pore back is 
jist a-killin' me. 

LOVEY (Also rising.) Ain't you never been able to 

git nuthin' that 'ud do that no good yet? 

SOFIRA No, and goodness knows I've tried everything 

under the sun it seems to me. 

LOVEY Have you tried plasters? 

SOFIRA Every kind you could think uv mustard, 

Jimpson weeds, fat meat, peach tree leaves, everything. 
And now I'm a wearin' one that Jake got from a peddler 
down at the store. I've had it on more'n a month, and 
now I caint git it off. Guess I'll jist have to let it grow off. 

LOVEY That's too bad, I do declare 1 cain't git no 

rest from my head and heart. 

SOFIRA You pore thing. I sometimes think that 

maybe its the Judgment sent on you fer indulgin' so much in 
worldly pleasures. Have you ever tried Balmony tea fer 
that heart? 

LOVEY— No, I ain't. 

SOFIRA Well, it's lucky I happened ter have a bottle 

of that in my pocket. (Producing bottle.) Now you take 
a tablespoonful of that after each meal. (Exit Sofira and 
Lovey into house.) 

(Dick slips in left and sits with Tiny.) 

TINY — What did yer ma want, Dick? 

DICK Aw, she jist wanted ter know what I wanted 

ter take erlong ter eat on the trip. 

TINY Say, Dick, how old was your ma and pa when 

they married? 

DICK Dunno. Don't think ma was but 17; how old 

wuz yourn? 

TINY Ma was 19, but pa was jist 18. 

DICK My, folks used not ter know how to have a good 

time, did they? They allers married too quick. 

11 



TINY — I dunno. My ma sez a person don't know how 
ter have a good time until they're married. 

DICK — (Blowing puffs of smoke.) Too slow fer me. 

TINY — How old are you, Dick? 

DICK — I'm 1 9, be twenty next month. How old are 
you, jist zactly, kiddo ? 

TINY — I'm 1 8. I'm a year older'n your ma was when 
she married and you're a year older'n my pa was when he 
married. 

DICK Yeah, your pa was awful young ter marry, wasn't 

he? He's been married about all o' his life, ain't he? He 
shorely did git stung when he married! (Pause — Dick ar- 
ranges his tie and dusts clothes.) 

TINY Say, Dick, t'other day I asked ma to tell me all 

about her's and pa's courtship — how he ast her to marry 
him and everything. 

DICK (Yawning.) Must a been awful dry to listen to, 

wasn't it? 

TINY — No, 'twas interesting. They'd been a-goin* to- 
gether for a long time and he was a-goin' away, so he ast 
her to promise to marry him so's nobody could cut him 
out while he was away. 

DICK — Did she do er, kiddo? 

TINY Yeah, but not at first. She waited awhile jist to 

git him to beg her and then she did before he left. (Pause.) 
Say Dick, did you know Rube Martin was a-wantin* to be 
a-goin' with me while you are in New York? 

DICK (Primping.) Nah, you never did tell me nothin* 

about it. But I guess he'd about suit you er, I mean, what 

did you tell him? 

TINY — Well, I told him I didn't know nothin' to keep 
me from it. I WASN'T ENGAGED TO NOBODY YET. 

(Pause. Loud gum chewing.) Dick, do you want me to 
be a-goin' with him? 

DICK — (Yawning.) Makes no difference to me — er, I 
I mean, course I don't. I don't want nobody to cut me 
out with you while I am away. 

TINY But what can I tell him? I can't say because 

you and me is you know what cause we ain't 

(Sofira and Lovey re-enter from house.) 

SOFIRA Lordy-mercy, if they an't at it again. Now 

you two come right over here and set with us. (They obey.) 
I do declare, Lovey, this world's a-goin' to the dogs fast. 
Here's these two younguns a-wantin' to spark all the time 
when they're jist babies yet. Ain't that a purty come-off! 
(Re-enter Jake and Hiram, right, smoking cigars.) There 
them men is a-wastin' money a-smokin' them costly cigars. 
Did you ever hear of sech extravagance! I tell you, Lovey, 
the Lord will punish sech doin's. I jist look fer the end of 
the world to come every minute. (Both women sigh deeply.) 

HIRAM 1 ain't a-sayin' nothin", Sofira, but it pears to 

me you look on the dark side of things — you kinder skear 
a feller up. 

12 



SOFIRA — I'd love ter skear you up and git you ter turn 
from your sin and wickedness and escape everlastin' pun- 
ishment. Now you have a blessed little woman and you 
ought ter try to be good enough for her. I caint never 
find nothin' in Lovey's life to reprove her for, no matter 

how hard I try; and goodness knows 1 try hard enough 

she's jist that good, pore thing. 

HIRAM — I ain't a-sayin* nothin 

JAKE You ain't got nothin' on me. 

(Dick and. Tiny slip off to seat at left.) 

SOFIRA Jake, you give Lovey some money to git some 

things I told her to git fer me. 

LOVEY You better tell 'em again and lemme write 'em 

down. I might fergit some of 'em, everything will be so 
strange. Lemme have your pencil, Hiram. 

SOFIRA (Slowly.) Well, three and a quarter yards o' 

gingham, blue like this dress I got on; one pair of black 
stockings; two yards of red ribbon; five yards of bed tick- 
ing six yards of eight ounce ducking, enough red calico fer 

a quilt top you might git enough of that fer Tiny a dress; 

a pair of Sunday shoes fer me; a box of shoe blacking; a 
milk bucket; two big crocks; a dozen half gallon fruit jars 
and a molasses pitcher. Now mind you, go to one of them 
there stores where they're a'havin* sales on. 

HIRAM Yep, I wrote up there to the mayor of New York 

to tell him I was a-comin', and I told him ter send me some 
advertisements from some of them stores what had sales 
on, so's we could jist pick out what we wanted. But you 
know, he ain't never answered my letter. 

SOFIRA That's jist the way with all them biggoty 

town dudes they're all alike. 

HIRAM Come in the house a minit, folks, I got to have 

a last look at that cider barrel. (They exit into house.) 

DICK (Grinning.) Now, kiddo, don't you let no guy 

cut me out with you while I'm gone, 'cause I might couldn't 

git no city girl er, I mean, 'cause if I thought somebody 

was a-beatin' my time, I couldn't stand to be away. You 
won't, will you, kiddo? 

TINY Nah, and don't you fergit me, Dick. I'll be awful 

lonesome. 

DICK Here's my picture (giving it). You can look at 

that when you git lonesome. Now, kiddo, (bashfully) 
you're a goin' ter gimme somethin' before I go, ain't you? 

TINY Hunkuh, I cain't do it, Dick. (Pause.) What 

did you want me to give you? 

DICK Aw pshaw! you'll gimme jist one, wont you? 

Jist think, I'll be gone a long time. Gimme jist one. 

TINY One what, Dick? 

DICK Lock of your hair. 

(Re-enter Hiram, Lovey, Jake and Sofira from house.) 

13 



LOVEY Well, Hiram, let's be a-gittin' on to town, or 

we're liable to miss our train. I don't want us ter have ter 
drive as fast as we did t'other day. 

HIRAM Yeah, guess we'd better be a-goin*. I think 

we got plenty of time — we can make 26 miles in three 
hours. Goin' some, eh, Jake! Beats the old ox wagon out 
er all hollers. 

LOVEY — Now don't you git careless, and git in with any 
confidence men, and don't talk to no strangers, and be 
careful when you start to cross the streets, and don't eat 
nothin' that'll make you sick, and keep your hand on your 
pocketbook while you're in the city, and watch out fer the 
fellers that wears broad rings on their fingers, for they're 
crooks, sure. And, Lovey, you keep a good eye on Hiram, 
fer he'll try to do something smart, I know. You ought to 
watch him like I do Jake. I'll bet that mangy critter never 

gits ter thinkin' about no giddy girls 1 ain't trained him 

thataway. 

HIRAM 1 ain't a-sayin' nothin 

JAKE — You ain't got nothin' on me. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



(Scene Room in fashionable home in New York. Set- 
tee at rii?h*" larre chairs at rr-nte*" and left; punch bowl in 
center; palms or flowers. John discovered standing behind 
Geraldine who is seated at left. Mrs. Van Alstyne seated 
on settee.) 

MRS. VAN 1 hope, Mr. Rogers, you appreciate the great 

favor we have shown you in securing the invitation for your 
friend. Girls of her station in life are seldom invited to 
homes of this kind. 

JOHN — You forget, Mrs. Van Alstyne, that I am also 
from a low station in life, if by low you mean poor. Miss 
Howard and I are of the same stratum both born of com- 
mon parents in humble homes. 

GERALDINE — But you know that you by your own ef- 
forts and by your immense wealth have well deserved rec- 
ognition in the highest society. 

MRS. VAN Yes, for you are about to be hailed as 

America's greatest violinist. 

JOHN- — That is if I show n.yself superior this evening to 
those who are to compete against me. But you must re- 
member that I am to meet some very good men men who 

B \ rn ~Av r have national, and even international, fame. 

MRS. VAN — Oh, you'll succeed. Too much — everything 
— depends upon your winning that medal this evening. 

GER. You have been wanting to know when we would 

make our engagement public; win this evening, and it will 
be announced tomorrow. 

14 



JOHN And if I fail 

MRS. VAN — You realize, Mr. Rogers, that my daughter 
will be giving to the man she marries a name that is cen- 
turies old. Scores of men are seeking her hand. Therefore, 
the man she marries must show himself of unusual worth. 
JOHN — I understand that unless I win this evening, I 
am not to hope for Geraldine's hand. 

MRS. VAN That is just it, Mr. Rogers. (Rising.) 

GER. And don't think that it is because I think less of 

you, if you fail. Only you know so much is expected of me 
that my husband must be both wealthy and famous. (Ris- 
ing.) 

JOHN — 1*11 do my best. (Exit left.) 

MRS. V. You did well, my daughter. If he does not 

win, it will be because he has not the ability; for he will 
surely do his utmost. 

GER. But you know, mother, he is so proud, if he fails, 

he might leave without asking again; and you know we 
must have our share of that oil money. And it seems that 
the only way is for me to marry him. 

MRS. V. Ah, never fear; he'll come back. 

GER. But after what has been said, he could have no 

REASON for doing so. 

MRS. V. He loves you, daughter, 

And LOVE and REASON never act as one. 

GER. But he, perchance, may think himself unworthy. 

MRS. V. Profess it, never think it just as we 

Proclaim ourselves unworthy of our God, 
Yet never has a mortal gone so low 
That he will out of love for God refuse 
To claim His Grace. So he, though vowing his 
. Unworthiness, will justify himself 

By saying that his overpowering love 
For you will call forth superhuman deeds 
And make him for his lovely queen a king. 

GER. Listen, mother, I have just thought of a plan. I 

simply cannot stand to think of marrying him — the very 
thought of his low birth makes him repulsive to me. Now, 
no one has heard what has just passed between him and 
us. Suppose he does not come back and we sue him for 
breach of promise. 

MRS. V. Fine! With our prestige in society we could 

get a million. Even if he wins, we might find some other 
excuse to make him break the engagement. No one would 
ever doubt our word. 

GER. 1 have never been able to see how I could afford 

to give George Arnold up just because he is poor; now I 
can get him and John's money too. (Exit Mrs. V. and 
Geraldine left.) 

(Enter Robert and John center.) 

ROBERT John, old man, why are you so glum tonight? 

15 



JOHN — Robert, do you realize that this night marks the 
climax in my life? 

ROBERT — Don't take it so seriously, old man, (putting 
his hand on John's shoulder) and you'll do better. Just 
play as though you were a thousand miles from nowhere. 
Play as you do when you are sitting alone with Geraldine 
and pouring out your soul in music. 

JOHN 1 wish that I could, but I simply cannot shake 

off this feeling of self-consciousness. I haven't felt as 1 do 
now in months. I" thought I was proof against this sort of 
thing. 

ROBERT — I wish that you felt as much confidence in 
yourself as I feel in you. 

JOHN — Perhaps it does not mean so much to you 
whether I succeed or not. 

ROBERT — Now look here, old man, you're just a little 
pessimistic tonight. It is unkind of you to talk that way. 
You know that I am more interested in you than I am in 
myself. 

JOHN — (Half hearing him. The following lines may be 
said to low music.) 

It means so much to me. When as a lad 
With feeble health, I found the labor on 
The farm too strenuous, I used to spend 
Unnumbered, lonesome hours in dreaming how 
I some day might be powerful and bring 
The world a blessing through my suffering. 
To while away my tortured hours, I played 
A violin an uncle gave me. Love 
Of music soon possessed me and I lived 
With but one aim, and that to be a great 
Musician. No one knew — save one dear soul — 
How hard I worked. But SHE was ever with 
Me. When I wished to study here, she gave 
Up everything that I might come. And through 
• These years always her guiding hand has led 

Me on. 
ROBERT — Who is this person, John. 

JOHN — My mother — 

Though crude, uncultured and untrained in speech, 
Yet sweeter, truer soul ne'er burned within 
A breast. 

ROBERT — And 'tis for her you care so much? 

JOHN Besides, it means for me a life career; 

I've staked my all on this. I'd never have 

Another opportunity to win 

A place among the artists of the world. 

ROBERT But even if you shouldn't, what of that? 

You have everything you need, for you 

Have money, fame, and friends; and you have won 

The promise of the girl you love. 

16 



JOHN — I haven't all of these. I have money, but the 
love and friends of which you speak are merely lent me, 
if I fail tonight. For then my dream of fame will change 
to a horrid nightmare and my love and friends will turn 
from me. 

ROBERT — It is not for me to say what effect your fail- 
ure would have upon Geraldine. But she should stand by 
you at least as closely as your friends. And let me tell 
you, a true friend is not made out of that kind of ma- 
terial. (Enter Wordna who stands unobserved.) 

There is no art in being a friend, 

As folks sometimes may say 

It's only a farce when one's your friend 

To make your friendship pay. 

A friend needs not your tactful ways, 

Or tritely chosen speech; 
He doesn't ask to know your aims, 

Or the goal you try to reach. 

He doesn't wait your listening ear 

Before he speaks your praise; 
He doesn't wait to know you're right 

Ere he defends your ways. 

A friend knows all your weaknesses, 

And knows your doubts and fears. 
He knows just where your worst fault is, 

And where your strength appears. 

As a rose absorbs a ray of light 

And reflects the loveliest hue, 
He mirrors the best that's in your life 

And shields the rest from view. 

JOHN Well said, old man, and I know you really feel 

that way toward me. 

WORDNA (Coming forward from concealment.) And 

let me say a word in behalf of Miss Alstyne, John. Your 
place in her affection surely does not depend upon the 
outcome of tonight's playing. If she were here now, and 
could see you in this mood, I'm sure she would say to you: 
(This song may be sung as solo, or with parts, or spoken 
to low music.) 

You need not win the world's esteem, 

Nor die a lost cause to redeem; 

You do not need to bring me gold, 

I do not ask for titles old. 

You do not need an artist's skill, 

Or singer's voice or poet's quill; 

For these the world claims as its own 

I want you for yourself alone. 

17 



I wish that in some far off sea, 

An island stood for you and me; 

Unburdened by man's discontent, 

A land without a precedent; 

Where free from hollow selffish pride, 

Our love would be our only guide; 

And in that eden all our own 

I'd love you for yourself alone. 

And there beneath some shady tree, 

I'd draw your head down close to me, 

And whisper words of love for you; 

For everything you'd say and do, 

For every feature of your face; 

For every kingly act and grace, 

For every kindness shown, 

I'd love you for yourself alone. 

JOHN— Wordna! 

ROBERT — And if she spoke that way, I'm sure you 
could never doubt. Your very soul seemed in those words, 
Miss Howard. 

JOHN But I can't agree with you and Robert, on this 

point, at least. My place with Geraldine as a suitor for her 
hand, and with you, Robert, as your friend, was given me 
by my efforts in music. Now if it should be shown tonight 
that my efforts were not as fruitful as I had hoped, I then 
have no claim on your affections. 

WORDNA It would only bring them closer to you, John, 

for then you would need their friendship more than ever. 

JOHN Yes, as a beggar in the street needs food to keep 

himself from starvation. I don't like to hear people say 
that they will be friends of a person as a matter of charity. 
(Exit abruptly left.) 

ROBERT He's a strange fellow grows more puzzling 

every day. 

WORDNA John has changed so much. He's not like 

the same person he was six years ago. 

ROBERT Few of us are. But I didn't know you had 

known him so long. 

WORDNA We were playmates together. 

ROBERT Listen, Miss Howard, pardon my saying it, but 

I have made a little discovery here tonight. I have seen 
that there is a girl in love with John who is much more 
worthy of him than is Geraldine Van Alstyne. 

WORDNA Why, Mr. Divinney, what do you mean? i 

I 

ROBERT — Yes, you are the one. You may not have 
known it, but those words of yours came from the very 
bottom of your heart. 

18 



WORDNA — (Speaking to herself.) Not known it! 1 
thought my love for him had changed to unselfish friend- 
ship, but I see it has not. (Going.) 

ROBERT (Stepping in front of her.) Just a moment, 

Miss Howard, I want to talk with you. I fear that Miss 
Van Alstyne does not feel toward John in a way that a 
man's promised wife should feel. I don't think your song 
expressed her feelings very well. To be frank, I am sure 
that she is after his money. 

WORDNA — I too, have felt this. 

ROBERT Haven't you good proof of it? Haven't you 

seen her and George Arnold together often? 

WORDNA Yes, and I have heard their names linked 

together a hundred times of late, especially. 

ROBERT — I'm afraid they're planning to give him a 
crooked deal. 

WORDNA Why, what do you mean? Do you think 

she really doesn't intend marrying him? 

ROBERT — She intends to have a large share of his 
money. If she has to marry him in order to get it, she'll 
do so but that will be her last resort. 

WORDNA But she could never get it any other way, 

could she? John would never give her cause to bring suit 
against him. 

ROBERT They might force him to do so. If anything 

turns up, they'll take advantage of it and make him break 
his engagement; then, with their good name to back them, 
sue him for doing so. I must be prepared to help him. 
By the way, the law firm you are connected with does 
Arnold's business, doesn't it? How is he fixed financially? 

WORDNA He is on the verge of bankruptcy. (Going 

right.) I do hope you can help him. If I can be of service, 
call on me. (Exit right.) 

(Enter Bonnie unobserved. She hears John's next 
speech.) 

ROBERT What a lucky dog John is. Now why was I 

never blessed with the love of a girl like that? 

BONNIE Indeed, my dear sir, quite a compliment to 

your fiancee to hear you wishing for the love of another 
girl. 

ROBERT Pshaw, now Bonnie, don't get angry; you 

know I was only joking. You know I'm not worthy of the 
love of a girl like her. 

BONNIE — Oh! that is worse still. Not worthy of Miss 
Howard, yet you never trouble yourself about being worthy 
of me! 

ROBERT Oh, say, let me explain you know I didn't 

mean it that way. 

BONNIE Don't trouble yourself to explain. I shall 

never speak to you again. 

ROBERT — Oh, is that so! 

19 



BONNIE — Yes, THAT'S so. And let me tell you another 
thing — I'm NOT going to give in this time. 

(Bonnie sits at left and looks away from Robert who sits 
at right. Both pout. Robert looks longingly at Bonnie, 
but, as soon as she turns and looks at him, he quickly looks 
away. Bonnie looks until he again turns toward her, then 
looks away. This alternate looking is kept up for a short 
time. Bonnie gets up and picks up a rose from the floor at 
center. She glances mischeviously at Robert, then screams 
as though she has stuck her finger. He rushes to her side.) 
ROBERT — What's the matter, Bonnie? 

BONNIE — (Giving him her hand.) Oh, I hurt my fin- 
ger! 

ROBERT You didn't mean what you said a while ago 

did you? It seems that I have been separated from you for 
years. 

BONNIE — Oh, Robert, let's never, never quarrel again. 
(They exit left.) 

(Enter John and Mademoiselle Meruski center.) 
M. M. — See, monsieur, they cannot help but recognize 
your superiority. You have been living your violin. 

JOHN — And you, dear Mademoiselle Meruski, have been 
giving me the very best instruction possible. If they do not, 
it will not be because you have failed in your part. 

M. M. — Ah, I can only work as my pupil inspires me. 
I have given you most of my time because you showed such 
great ability. 

JOHN — I thank you. 

M. M. — When you start on our own production, our 
masterpiece, they will be spellbound! 

JOHN — And now you will stand just where you are, so 
that when I am playing I may see you. It will give me 
greater power. 

M. M. — Go now, they're beginning. Go, and success 
crown your efforts. (Exit John left. M. M. paces floor 
nervously while soft violin music comes from the left wing. 
She speaks to its tones.) Ah, tonight for the first time my 
soul is to be revealed! All my life I have felt that my heart- 
strings were a violin. How I have longed to sit in some 
secluded place and pour forth my soul in music. And yet 
that childhood accident which robbed me of my fingers has 
prevented my doing so. And now the fire which I have 
kept within me all these years is to burst forth tonight. 

This is the time I have lived for when someone should 

express my feeling. (Music changes.) Ah, he is begin- 
ning now. (Pause.) Oh, ze wonderful strains! It ees 
beautiful as ze greatest painting! (Clasps hands.) It ees 
like a most delicate vase! How he plays! (Pause.) Now, 
:e climax! How he holds us up — up — up. Be careful, 
con't break it yet! Ah! (Falls fainting to settee.) 
(Enter John on run from left. He picks her up.) 
JOHN — Oh, Mademoiselle Meruski, see (pointing to 
20 



medal.) This means that the National Music Association 
has this night declared me the greatest violinist in America! 

(Enter Robert, Bonnie, Wordna, Mrs. V., and Geraldine 
left.) 

ALL Three cheers for the American Stradivari! 

MRS. V. We're so proud of you, Mr. Rogers. 

(Hiram, Lovey and Dick bustle in from right.) 

HIRAM Yes, and we're proud of you too, ain't we, 

Lovey? I don't know what you've done, but I'll bet er 
chaw er terbacker she's all right. 

(John is dumfounded and tries to keep the others from 
seeing. Wordna tries to coax Hiram and Lovey out at 
right. As they get to the door, she turns and faces the 
rest.) 

MRS. V. — (To Hiram.) Who are you, sir? 

WORDNA These, laides and gentlement, are my father 

and mother. 

(John springs forward and tries to speak, but she silences 
him with a knowing look.) 

HIRAM — Well, I'll be John-Browned, gal, what do you — 

(Wordna covers his mouth with her hand.) 

MRS. V. — (To Wordna.) Take your low-lived ancestors 
and leave, impostor! 

WORDNA (In an undertone to Hiram and Lovey.) 

Don't say a word. Do as I say. It means John's happiness. 
(Aloud.) We wish you all good night. We will leave your 
bloodless life forever. (Exit.) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 



(Scene Portion of fashionable cafe in New York show- 
ing three tables. One is at left front, one near center, and 
one at rear right. Palms or decorations partly exclude 
tables at extremities from view of each other.) 

(Enter Wordna, Hiram, Lovey and Dick, left, They sit 
at table at left. Hiram and Dick keep their hats on.) 

WORDNA I'm so glad I found you last night. I missed 

you at the station. We will have lunch, then I shall take 
you to John's studio. 

HIRAM What did you mean, gal, by claimin' me and 

the old woman fer yer daddy and mammy and then a-run- 
nin' off with us thataway? I thought you and John had 
quit long ago. 

WORDNA John was so nervous and excited I wanted 

to give him time to relax before having you. Besides I 
wanted to have time to give you some suggestions about the 
customs of the city. I can be of a great deal of help to 
you, since you do not know New York. 

HIRAM Yep, I know I'm a rube now, but you jist wait; 

in a few days I'll know ole New York like a book. 

21 



DICK — Say, dad, 'es hang our hats on them contrap- 
tions back there. 

HIRAM — Good for you, son. You're a chip off the old 
block — always a-lookin' out fer things. (Dick hangs hats 
up.) 

LOVEY — I ain't a-feelin* very well. So much noise and 
bustle is too much fer me. I feel faint. 

WORDNA — I'm so sorry. Try to get used to the noise 
and you'll soon feel better. I brought you to this quiet 
place so that you could rest. 

LOVEY — I don't think I can rest — it's my heart. 

HIRAM — Now, old woman, cheer up. Don't spoil our 
first day in real society by feelin' bad. Jist open up and take 
*er all in. Some swell place ter eat in, eh, son? 

DICK — Suits me all right. 

HIRAM — Wonder if I could buy this place — wonder how 
much they'd take fer it? 

DICK Dunno, but if some of them purty gals that is 

a-waitin' on the tables goes with it, I'd shore love fer you 
to try. 

LOVEY 'Taint right fer you to be a-talkin' thataway, 

Richard, when you left pore little Tiny at home a-thinkin* 
about you. 

DICK — Huh, you don't think she could hold a light to 
none of these swells, do you? No country bird for me! 

LOVEY — Country folks is all right. I do wish we hadn't 
a struck it rich and was back on the old farm jist like we 
was. 

WORDNA — Excuse me just a moment. I see a party to 
whom I must speak a few words. (Exits left.) 

(Waitress appears from left. She leaves pads and pencils 
and places menu cards. All stare at her with open mouths.) 

HIRAM Now what do you know about that, son. Some 

pretty girl, eh! 

DICK — Suits me all right, but I kinder believe she's big- 
goty she didn't say nothin'. 

LOVEY — Sofira says that's the way with all these city 

folks so biggoty they won't have nothin' to do with good 

honest people. 

HIRAM — Perhaps she's deaf, cain't hear nothin*. 

DICK That's about it. See, she left these pencils and 

tablets for us to write on. 

HIRAM — (Picks up card and tries to read it, holding it 
at arm's length. He places a large pair of gold rimmed 
glasses on his nose and they fall off. He replaces them, 
and holding his head back to balance them, reads.) Well, 
I'll be Johnny-jumped-up, if it looks like we're goin* ter git 
very fat in here on butter and water, and not much of that. 
Lovey, can you make out what this here card means? 

LOVEY — (Holding her head between her hands.) 
ain't a-tryin'. I don't feel like it. You all go on ahead and 
eat. I don't keer fer nothin'. 

22 



DICK (Polishing glasses on his napkin.) Why, ma, 

you ain't et nothin* 'cept what we brought from home. 

LOVEY 1 reckon I can make out until we git home agin. 

If only my heart 'd quit botherin'. 

HIRAM Well, I ain't a-sayin' nothin', but I cain't make 

a bloomin' thing out o' this card. I cain't tell whether it's 
a program er a bill of fare. (Waitress passes by from left.) 
Guess I'd better write and ask this here deaf girl. 

DICK Shuckin's, dad, that's too slow. I'll talk to her 

on my fingers. (Makes signs. Waitress smiles and passes 
on. Dick jumps around in his chair bashfully.) 

HIRAM — I ain't a-sayin' nothin', but I'm a-gittin' mighty 
blamed tired of this. I'm hungry. (Looks off left.) Hi, 
there! Hold on a minute! 

(Rushes out left and soon returns, carrying a large sack 
of bananas which he passes to Lovey and Dick. They peel 
and eat, country style.) I'll be John-Browned of I'm a-goin' 
ter be beat out er my dinner by all this fol de rol, red tape 
er society. 

LOVEY Maybe if I could git a cup of coffee my head 

'ud git easy. 

HIRAM If Wordna had only allowed me ter bring our 

gripsacks along, we had some of that coffee in that there 
fruit jar that we brought from home. 

DICK Well, you see, dad, Wordna says you don't carry 

yer gripsacks with you all around over the city. And 
we got to be in style, you know. 

HIRAM — I tell you, I've about decided I'd rather be in 
good health than ter be in style. And the two don't seem 
to go very well together here. (Enter newsboy.) Here, 

I'll take some how much are they? Why you look like 

you was hungry. Where do you eat, here in town? No 
wonder, then; you ought to be starved to death. (Giving 
him a bill.) I'll take all yer got. Jist pitch 'em on the 

table they ain't a-goin' ter bring us nothin' ter eat. (He 

and Dick take one each and read. Exit newsboy. Lovey 
rests her head on her hands.) 

DICK The ain't no use a-readin' the news, dad; we're 

right in the midst of where she's a-happening, so what's 
the use of reading about it. You look out fer a good show. 

HIRAM Yeah, you'd better be a lookin' out ter see 

where the mayor lives so I can see him about them stores. 

DICK Shuckin's, I can see about that later on. I've got 

to look fer me a good party to go to. I've got ter git into 
society, I tell you. 

LOVEY Don't fergit what Sofira and Jake told us about 

lookin' fer a place that has sales on. We mustn't fergit 
our friends down on the farm. Oh, goodness! my head. 

HIRAM Fergit yer head a little while, old woman, and 

think aboi't your stomach. If it was as empty as mine is 
you would. Mine ain't got nothin' in it, 'cept six banan- 
ers and some peanuts and that air cud er terbacker that I 

23 



swallered a while ergo while I was a-lookin* to see how tall 
that building was. 

(Waitress re-appears left.) 

HIRAM (Rising and' reaching in his pocket.) Well, 

Miss, we enjoyed our butter and worter mighty well. Now, 
if you'll bring us some toothpicks, I'll pay you fer our din- 
ner. 

WAITRESS — You haven't indicated your order yet. 
(Takes pencil and writes.) Now if you'll tell me what you 
wish. 

DICK — Wish, shuckin's, what do you suppose we come 
in here for, ter water our horses? We want something ter 
eat, eh, dad? 

WAITRESS — (Smiling.) All right, what will it be? 

HIRAM We want four of the best square meals you 

got in the house and we don't care what they cost, neither. 
We got the money ter pay fer "em too. Here's a little 
somethin' fer yerself Miss, ter pay yer fer takin' away them 
bananer peelings. (Giving bill.) 

WAITRESS — (Delighted, smiling.) Oh, thank you, sir. 
I'll see that you get what you want. (Exit left.) 

DICK (Jumping around and twisting his coat.) Man- 
kind, dad, did you see that grin? Ain't she a dinger! I 
got ter make a hit with her. 

HIRAM 1 ain't a-sayin' nothin'. 

(Re-enter Wordna left.) 

WORDNA (Sitting.) I regret that I had to be away 

from you so long. Did you put in our orders? 

HIRAM You bet we did, and that little humdinger of a 

waitress said she'd see that we got er, too. I think she 
kinder likes Dick. 

DICK— Now, dad! 

WORDNA I'm so surprised that you did not write John 

that you were coming and have him meet you at the station 
and take you to his rooms at once. 

HIRAM — Well you see, we wanted ter give the boy the 

surprise of his life wanted jist ter step right in on him, 

like we did last night. And then we wanted ter have a few 
hours to git our bearings in the city 'fore we saw him, so's 
we'd feel at home. 

LOVEY 1 ain't never goin* ter feel at home. No place'll 

seem like home to me 'ceptin' the old farm. 

DICK Shuckin's, ma, you'll git used ter this soon. 

LOVEY — Hunkuh! Won't neither. Besides I ain't 
a-goin' to have good health here. And the people don t 
seem to be very neighborly, neither. 

WORDNA How did you ever hope to find him? 

HIRAM Well, we planned 'er like unto this. We'd git 

here about one o'clock and we'd walk around all over the 
city till long about four, and then we'd look John up. But 
we wouldn't let him see us. We wanted ter foller him to 
that there place where he was a-goin' ter play and go in on 

24 



him there. But you know we jist walked our heads of? and 

never could git very far from the same place leastways 

all the streets looked alike. And I tell you we was jist 
about tired out when we happened ter see John through 
a winder of that fine house. 

DICK — (Looking at the paper.) Now what do you know 
about this? If here ain't John's picture in the paper. My, 

but he's got on some swell clothes jist like them he had on 

last night. It says: "Miss Geraldine Van Alstyne, the 
prominent social leader, is to be married to Mr. John Rogers, 
(Wordna turns away in pain) son of a southern oil king." 

HIRAM Going some, eh! Southern Oil King that's 

me! I'll go around tomorrow after we've had our pic- 
tures took and have this here feller that runs this paper 
print my picture, saying that this is the oil king that he was 

a talkin' about. But read about this Miss Van Alstyne 

this picture don't show her to be very good looking why 

it's the same girl we saw last night! 

(Waitress brings food from left. They eat. Hiram and 
Dick using bad table manners. After a few minutes John, 
Mrs. Van Alstyne, Geraldine, Bonnie and Robert enter 
center. Robert and Bonnie sit at table at center, the others 
at right. Usual business of ordering.) 

MRS. V. So kind of you, Mr. Rogers, to invite us out to 

luncheon today. We weren't expecting it. It is so pleas- 
ing too, for us to be seen together the day your engagement 
appears in the papers. 

GERALDINE How did you manage to get so much 

space, mother? Two whole columns! 

MRS. V. Mr. Rogers deserves credit for a great deal of 

that. His success of last evening made it easy. 

JOHN — I feel quite an impostor, Mrs. Van Alstyne, to 
read in the papers that I am of an old aristocratic, Southern 
family of the great plantation days, whose ancestors were 
of the noble families of Europe. 

MRS. V. But it is absolutely necessary that it be un- 
derstood that way. Geraldine could never become the wife 
of one who was known to be of common parents. 

GERALDINE Yes, my dear, New York must never know 

that this article is untrue in the slightest detail. 

BONNIE Robert, who on earth are you smiling at? 

ROBERT Nobody. Now don't get jealous. 

BONNIE Jealous indeed! (Looking back and seeing 

Wordna.) Oh, I see, Miss Howard! Perhaps, sir, you are 
trying to become a "lucky dog" yourself. 

ROBERT Now listen, Bonnie. 

BONNIE 1 don't care to hear any of your puny explana- 
tions, Mr. Divinney. You are nice, indeed, to invite me to 
have luncheon with you to celebrate your friend's engage- 
ment only because you know this girl will be here to smile at 
you. You must never speak to me again after you get me 
home, you brute! 

25 



ROBERT Excuse me a minute. (Rises and signals John 

to right front.) Say, John, old man, I'm in bad with Bon- 
nie again. Let me have two of those box seats for tonight. 
I'll get others for you later. (John gives tickets and they 
return to their seats.) 

BONNIE It was so nice while you were away talking to 

Mr. Rogers. You are so accommodating sometimes, Mr. 
Divinney. 

ROBERT I'm so sorry you feel that way about it. You 

won't want to carry out some plans I had for this evening. 

BONNIE^-I should say not. (Pause.) Well, you need'nt 
be so mean; you might at least tell me what you had in 
mind for us. 

ROBERT (Producing tickets and carelessly flipping 

them with his fingers.) I feel that it is unnecessary now. 

BONNIE — (Looking at tickets.) Oh, Robert, you darling! 
You are so good to think of me for that I 1 simply could not 
think of failing to see the Barrymores in that new act. I'm 
sorry I acted so mean, 1 1 

ROBERT — Now, don't say another word-: — you'll go, 
won't you? 

BONNIE — I'll be charmed! 

(Waitress enters left and starts to pass table.) 

HIRAM (Feeling in his pocket.) Well, Miss, what's 

the damages? 

WAITRESS— Sir? 

HIRAM — What you got agin me? 

WAITRESS — Nothing. You're the kind I like. (Showing 
his tip.) 

HIRAM 1 mean what's the charges? 

WAITRESS — I don't understand you, sir. 

HIRAM Well, I'll be derned! I thought you was a 

purty sensible girl, and I think my son here was a kinder 
gittin' struck on you. 

DICK— (Very bashfully.) Now, dad. 

HIRAM 1 mean, Miss, how much is our bill? 

WAITRESS— Oh! (Gives slip.) 

HIRAM (Handing large amount of money.) Here you 

are. Keep the change fer your own self. 

WAITRESS Oh, thank you come again! 

DICK (Jumping around and twisting coat and stuffing 

corner of table cloth in his pocket.) Do you mean me, 
kiddo? 

WAITRESS Sure, tell them to bring you along too, 

Johnny. 

DICK Hunkuh, that ain't my name. That's my brother. 

My name's Richard Richard Rogers, from Black Stump 

Valley, Texas but you can call me Dick, if you want to. 

(Waitress exits smiling to left. Dick makes flourishes in 
elated manner. Lovey starts to rise and screams and falls. 
Confusion. John and Robert rush to scene.) 

26 



JOHN Father, mother I you again I What has hap- 
pened? 

WORDNA — She has only fainted, I think. Her heart is 
bothering and the excitement is too much for her. 

JOHN (As he sees his mother recovering.) We must 

get her out of this. Just a minute. (Leads Robert over 
toward other party.) I am sorry, Geraldine, but I am 
needed over here. Robert will escort you home. 

MRS. V. (To Geraldine.) The same woman who was 

there last night 1 Can it mean that they are anything to 
him? It is very unusual, Mr. Rogers, that you should be 
needed just because a very ordinary woman of the street 
happens to faint, really! 

JOHN Perhaps so, Mrs. Van Alstyne, but not so un- 
usual when I tell you that this woman is my mother. Good 
day. (Goes to left, and they carry Lovey out.) 

GERALDINE HIS mother, terrible I I never dreamed 

they would be so low as that I Why these are the people 

Miss Howard claimed as her parents can it be that she was 

shielding him? 

MRS. V. Thank God, no one saw this except Bonnie 

and Robert and they will say nothing of it, because they 
are his friends. 

GERALDINE Mother, this is the last straw 1 simply 

cannot marry him now, ugh! 

MRS. V. But we shall go right down and maybe we 

can make him send them home. If he doesn't — well maybe 
this is just the opportunity we have been waiting for. 

ROBERT (Joining them.) Mrs. Van Alstyne, John 

has asked me to escort you and your daughter home. He 
is to be detained on account of 

MRS. V. Yes, on account of a low coarse being whom 

he calls mother! 

ROBERT You are mistaken there, Mrs. Van Alstyne. 

Those words, low, coarse, and mother don't go together. 
There is something sacred in that word mother, whether it 
signifies the proud matron of a mansion or a poor beggar 
of the street. Take any crowd of men the world over, real 
men, I say, and there is one word at which they will rever- 
ently raise their hats and that word is MOTHER! 



ACT IV. 

(Scene John's studio. Office desk at right. Hall tree 

at back. A few chairs. Lena sits at desk and manicures 
her nails. Dick at rear watches her unobserved. Lena 
exits right and Dick goes over to desk.) 

DICK Now, what do you know about that! Ain't she 

a hummer, though? I got to make a hit with her. Wonder 
what she's a-doin'. She's a rubbin* her nails jist like I do 
my shoes when I black 'em. I thought they said black 
finger nails wasn't the style in the city. (Exit center.) 

(John and Lena enter right. She sits at desk.) 

27 



JOHN — Finish up that stack of letters and then you may 
go for the day, and you need not return for a few days. 
Take a vacation. (Exit right.) 

LENA — (Writes on typewriter.) Humph, the boss is 
kinder blustery today. (Dick appears at back.) Well, I 
should worry! I'll finsh this work up in short order, and 
then it's me for the movies. 

DICK — (Approaching bashfully, twisting his coat.) How 
do you do? 

LENA — Pretty good, sonny, how are you? Did you wish 
to see Mr. Rogers? 

DICK — Shuckin's, no. I'm his brother. 

LENA — Now you're a-tryin' to kid me, bo; maybe you 
want to be introduced to a cop. 

DICK — No, honest Miss, that's who I am, Richard Rogers, 
form Black Stump Valley, Texas. 

LENA — Well you haven't been away from BLACK — 
STUMP — VALLEY, — TEXAS, long, have you? Aren't 
you homesick? 

DICK — Nah, not while I can be a looking at pretty girls 
like you. 

LENA — (Whirling around in her seat.) Ahem, have a 
seat. Be easy. I'm afraid you'll twist your coat in two. 

DICK — (Sitting.) Have some gum, Miss. 

LENA — Thanks, awfully. I was getting so dry I was 
afraid to open the door, afraid I'd blow away. 

DICK — Are you a-workin' fer John, er, I mean Mr. 
Rogers? 

LENA — Uhuh, his secretary. 

DICK — Jist write letters fer him, is that all you do? 

LENA — (Yawning.) Yeah. 

DICK — Jist you and him here all by yourselves? 

LENA — Uhuh, most of the time. 

DICK Say, Miss, I'll give you twice as much as John 

is a-givin' you, if you'll come down ter Black Stump Val- 
ley and be mine. 

LENA — Your — ah — secretary, of course. 

DICK — Uhuh, what you say? Will you? 

LENA Say, what's this you're a feedin' us, Bo? Go on 

off to the movies and cool your head. 

DICK You come and go with me. Do! Come on, and 

then we'll go and git something ter eat tergether. 

LENA — (Rising and putting on her hat.) Now you're 
talking, Bo. You're not such a rube as you look. (They 
exit center.) 

LOVEY — (Entering right. Her head is bandaged and 
she walks unsteadily. She sits at right.) I do wonder 
where Richard is. I do wish the pore boy would be keerful. 
I know he'll git lost. (Enter Hiram on run from left. His 
clothes and hair are tousled and he is breathless. He falls 
into chair.) Why, Hiram, what on earth has happened? 

HIRAM Now jist hold yer hosses, old woman, and don't 

28 



git excited. (He removes his hat, coat and shoes and 
stretches his feet far in front of him.) I thought I was 
a-gittin' too old to fight, old woman, but as was a-comin' 
down the street out there awhile ago I saw a sight that 
made my blood boil and I forget myself. I had been a 
walkin' up and down this street out there, backards and for- 
rards, afraid to turn off on any other, afraid I'd git lost agin. 
And once, jist as I was a turnin' around and lookin' across 
at all of them people, a baby buggy bumped into me and 
come purty nigh to knocking me down. I turned around 
and looked and I'll be blowed, if there wasn't a black nig- 
ger a-runnin' off with somebody's white baby. I jumped 
onto her about it, but she lowed as how she was hired by 
that there baby's mother to take keer of it. 'Course I 
knowed she was a-lyin', and I knocked that nigger out into 
the middle of the street and started on up here with the 
kid. But I had not gone fer, when a biggoty guy wearin* a 
blue suit with brass buttons on it started on ter me with a 
stick. I knocked that feller higher'n a kite, and started to 
bring the baby on up here. But about that time a whole 
car full of fellers jist like the first one came a-drivin' up. 
They told me they was officers, but I didn't believe 'em. 
But, Lovey, when they got through with me, they made 
me pay 'em two hundred dollars to keep from goin' to jail. 

LOVEY Oh, Hiram, don't you remember it's a sin to 

fight. I do wish you wouldn't be so venturesome. Now 
there's Richard a-follerin' right in your tracks. He's out 
now, and the Lord only knows where. I'm so afraid the pore 
boy'll git lost. 

HIRAM (Pause.) How you feelin', old woman? 

LOVEY — I ain't a-fellin' very well; think I'll go in here 
and lay down awhile. (Exits right.) 

HIRAM (Starts to follow; then notices that his sus- 
penders are loose.) Well I'll be John-Browned, if I didn't 
lose some buttons out there in that little scrimmage awhile 
ago. Wonder if I could find a pin. (Looks.) 

MRS. V. (Enters center and peers at him through 

lorgnette.) Sir!! 

HIRAM Oh er, excuse me, Mum, I, er, got into a 

little mix-up awhile ago and lost some buttons. Could you 
loan me a pin? 

MRS. V.— I CERTAINLY COULD NOT! Who are you, 
sir? 

HIRAM Ah, er, excuse me, Mum, Rogers is my name, 

Hiram Rigers, from Black Stump Valley, Texas. I'm here 
visitin' my son John. Here's where he stays and plays the 
fid er, I mean, the vierlin. 

MRS. V. So he is really your son! 

HIRAM Yep, and who are you? (Holding up glasses 

as though they were a lorgnette.) You don't happen ter be 
John's New York girl, are you? 

29 



MRS. V. — No, indeed. 

HIRAM — Didn't think so. I think they say she's a hum- 
dinger, all right. 

MRS. V.— Oh, THEY do! 

HIRAM Yep, but they say that her old mother is as 

grouchy as an old settin' hen. 

MRS. V.— Oh!!! 

GERALDINE — (Enters center.) Mother! 

HIRAM — Well I'll be Johnny-jumped-up, if he ain't got 
a whole house full of 'em. (Enter Lovey right.) Kinder 
pin up my britches back thar, old woman; I feel kinder 
skittish with all of these fine women here. 

GERALDIN — (Standing horrified with her mother at 
left.) So that is what he calls parents. You must talk to 
them, mother. 

MRS. V. — Mr. Rogers, I want to tell you and your wife 
something of utmost importance to your son's happiness. 
During his stay here in New York he has made for himself 
friends in society in which you could never associate. He 
could never present you to his friends and the girl he 
intends to marry. 

HIRAM — You mean ter say, lady, that our son would be 
ashamed of his old daddy and mammy because we ain't fine 
enough fer the society he's used to, eh? (Enter Wordna 
right.) 

GERALDINE Hardly that; but it would ^uin his social 

standing if it should be known that he is of such common 
birth. And he would never allow his friends to know you. 

WORDNA (Coming forward.) That is false, Miss 

Van Alstyne. 

(Enter John right. Geraldine rushes to him.) 

GERALDINE (Pointing to Wordna.) Oh, John, that 

horrid creature has just insulted me. 

JOHN Wordna, Miss Howard, can this be true? What 

do you mean by insulting my promised wife in my own 
rooms? Leave at once. (Exits right with Geraldine. 

Wordna exits slowly at left.) 

HIRAM — Now, listen, old lady. I'm not sure that I got 
everything straightened out er not. I believe, though, that 
your dorter is the girl John is engaged to marry, and you 
are going ter marry her ter him because you want ter git 
his money. And now you want us ter give him up and go 
back to the farm and never see him again fer fear we'll dis- 
grace him is that it? 

MRS. V. — That is about it. Of course, you understand 
that it is in your son's interest that I speak. 

HIRAM — Well, if John wants the old woman and me ter 
30 



go back to the farm, we'll do er. But I cain't believe he'll 
ask us ter do it. 

(Re-enter John and Geraldine.) 

MRS. V. — Come here daughter. Mr. Rogers, those crea- 
tures must be sent back to the farm and given to under- 
stand that they must never be seen here again. 

JOHN — Why, Mrs. Van Alstyne, what — Geraldine, what 
have you to say to this? 

GERALDINE — It must be as mother says, John. 

JOHN — What, turn down the very one's who've made 
me what I am! Give me my ring. Our engagement is at 
an end. I wish you good-day. 

MRS. V. And so this is the way you treat those who 

have been the source of your inspiration! 

JOHN No, Mrs. Van Alstyne, perhaps I have at times 

felt that your daughter has been my inspiration. But dur- 
ing the most difficult grinding over my work, when the way 
seemed long and the goal far away, here (taking his mother 
in his arms) was my inspiration! It has been the remem- 
brance of her abiding faith in my ability, of her sacrifices 
for me, of her unselfish, watchful care over my boyhood, 
that has made me struggle with such tenacity to accomplish 
something worthy of her devotion. During times that are 
vital to a man, he remembers the one who above all others 
has been the guiding factor in his life; and the man has a 
right to be happy when that person is his MOTHER! 

(To low music.) 

I remember the days when I sat at her knee 

And basked in her loving smile; 
I remember the days when she taught me the truth 

About things in life worth while; 
The days when she taught me to shun all sin 

And tread the Narrow Way; 
When she taught me to know God's Infinite Plan 

And serve him day by day. 
And all that is fine and beautiful 

Within my life today 
But merely reflects her love for me — 

My mother, old and gray. (Pause.) 

HIRAM — (Holding open door to left.) Ah, excuse me, 
Mum, my son John wishes you and yore dorter good day. 

MRS. V. — You'll hear more of this. (Exit with Ger. left.) 

LOVEY So Wordna was right after all. She told 'em 

you wouldn't be ashamed of your old father and mother. 

JOHN So that is the way she insulted them! 

HIRAM — 's right. She jist up and took mine and the old 
woman's part. You done that girl a wrong, John. 

JOHN — Why did you allow me to act so hastily? 
31 



HIRAM It was all done so tarnation quick I didn't have 

time ter do nothin' 'cept try ter keep from swallerin' my 
false teeth! But she'll be all right soon's you explain. 

(Telephone rings and John answers.) 

JOHN — Hello. Oh, Robert. Come right over. Sure, be 
glad to have her. Come right away. Say, Robert, come 
by and bring Miss Howard with you. Tell her it's very im- 
portant that I see her at once. Good-bye. 

DICK — (Enters with Lena left.) Say, John, I want you 
ter fire this here girl. 

JOHN — Why, what's the matter? 

DICK — I'm goin' ter take her back ter Black Stump Val- 
ley with me. 

HIRAM — Why, son, you don't mean ter say yer a-goin' 
ter git married, do you? 

DICK — You bet I do, unless she changes her mind in 
the next few minutes. 

HIRAM — Now, looky here, I cain't agree to this. This 
here girl would never be satisfied. A person that's been 
a-livin' on a farm can go to the city and be satisfied, but 
they ain't no person from the city goin' ter be content ter 
spend their days on a farm. Besides, this girl don't seem 
ter be serious — don't seem ter care fer nothin* but frills 
and chewing gum. 

LENA Yes, I know that we all seem that way, but that's 

just on the surface. And beneath that is a longing for 
things worth while. The best that is in us seldom comes 
to the surface because people don't expect it of us. You 
usually get from a person just about what you expect. I can 
remember many years ago of living on a farm where every- 
thing was beautiful and where life was not just one hurry 
and worry. And I want to go back; I'm homesick for folks 
who care. 

HIRAM — Then I guess we'll take you along, little girl. 
We need 'em like you. 

LOVEY— Pore Tiny! 

(Re-enter Mrs. V. left.) 

MRS. V.— ^Pardon this intrusion upon this happy family 
scene, but I must inform you, Mr. Rogers, that I am pre- 
paring to file suit against you in my daughter's name for 
the sum of $500,000 for breach of promise. (Robert, 
Wordna and Bonnie appear at back unobserved.) 

JOHN Why, Mrs. Van Alstyne, you don't mean that 

you couldn't — 

MRS. V. — Don't trouble yourself about my not being 
able to collect it. You know well enough that my name 
connected with any suit in New York will be enough to 
insure the success of it. You will only destroy the fame 

32 






you won last evening, if you let this become public. I 
advise you to pay it and not let it come to court. 

HIRAM — Well, I'd give that much to be shut of this 
critter, John. 

ROBERT — (Coming forward.) Don't be too hasty, my 
dear madam. You see I had been expecting something like 
this from you. So I looked up the man who really means 
something to your daughter, George Arnold. I found him 
broke as usual; so, for a few thousand dollars, I secured this 
letter, which I think will throw a little light on matters. 
(Reads.) 
Mr. George Arnold. 

My Darling George: No, I'm not going to break our en- 
gagement just because John Rogers became famous last 
evening. I am yet hoping that I may find a way to get the 
money without the man, and I shall consider myself yours 
till the last. If it comes to the worst, and I must marry 
him, I'll soon find some excuse for divorce; then we can be 
together. 

Unhappy till I am in your loving arms. 

Geraldine. 

HIRAM — Er, excuse me, madam, again I have the pleas- 
ure of wishing you good-day. (Exit Mrs. V. left.) 

(John takes Wordna to right. Dick and Lena to left.) 

BONNIE — Now I see why you wanted to bring Miss 
Howard. Oh, Robert, forgive me and I'll never get jealous 
again. 

ROBERT — That's all right, I knew you'd say that when 
you understood. But say, let's stop this quarreling and 
get married today. 

JOHN — Say, Robert, I've had my eyes opened to a num- 
ber of things today, and I realize that here is the only girl 
I ever loved. 

ROBERT — Fine! Say, Bonnie and I have decided to end 
our relations. 

JOHN — What! You're not going to give each other up! 

ROBERT Well hardly we're going to get married. 

JOHN — What do you say to this — let's have a double 
wedding 

DICK Say, John, how about three of 'em? 

JOHN — Then we'll go down in Texas with father and 
mother. How long can you be away? 

ROBERT Oh, about three months. 

JOHN Good, we'll spend two weeks down there; then 

we'll make that tour of Europe which I am invited to make, 
before we come back to New York. 

HIRAM — Come on, folks, and let's git things ready — I'm 
homesick. 

LOVEY — But first let's git them things fer Sofira and 
Jake. We mustn't fergit our friends down on the farm. 
CURTAIN. 
THE END. 
SEE ORDER BLANK ON NEXT PAGE. 



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